Mr Gamblin' Man
by Neurabe
Summary: The night before the infection hits, Nick has an interesting encounter. In progress.
1. Part I

Mr. Gamblin' Man

With practiced deliberation Nick locked eyes with the woman in the pinstripe pantsuit sitting across the long, green tabletop gazing back at him with the same fixed expression. The silence around them was deafening, unaffected by the dozens of people who had gathered around them. His eyes shifted from hers to the five cards in his hand before laying them face-up on the table, decisively ignoring the pile of chips residing between himself and the brunette.

"Full house."

Her eyelids fluttered momentarily before she lowered her cards down with the smallest of smirks.

Four of a kind.

Motherfuck.

A small gasp cracked the quiet before it was shattered with applause. Nick leaned back in his chair, his fingers dancing over his mouth, as she reached forward and slid the pile of colorful plastic chips toward herself.

"It's always a woman, ain't it?" a man laughed to his left as he playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

Nick forced a smile as he shrugged the hand off him. He was not pleased. Only a portion of that money had been his to begin with and he certainly had plenty of reserves but he rarely misread a fellow card player and he never, ever lost _that_ much. Nick watched her slim figure stand and walk toward the cashier without a second glance before he took to his feet and walked out the nearest pair of French doors and into the humid Georgia air.

The steady noise of the engine seemed oddly natural amidst the cacophony of birds, frogs and the whatever-the-fuck-else that inhabited the murky water the boat was slowly slicing through. He'd just arrived the previous night but already he was wishing he had taken Jake up on his offer to get together in Vegas. Now, instead of cleaning house on familiar turf he'd just lost what had taken him weeks to garner.

In an untried city.

To a woman.

Fuck.

He gripped the railing around edge of the boat, his rings clacking against the wood. A sudden intake of air alerted him to the door opening at his back. Nick sighed, tilted his head toward the door and waited for the sardonic wit of one of the men he'd bested earlier in the evening, no doubt eager to congratulate him on his sweeping loss, but instead found a feminine hand rattling a glass of liquid copper at his side.

"Buy you a drink, Slick?"

He was honestly surprised. He'd expected her to make herself scare until the boat returned to shore lest an awkward encounter ruin her high. Shit, that's what he would have done had the situation been reversed. Yet here she was calm as could be – and understandably pleased – seemingly attempting to make nice.

"That's gracious of me," Nick smirked, gesturing to the two drinks in both of her hands; drinks that his money had no doubt purchased. "But my mama taught me better than to take drinks from strangers."

She looked different to him now. Her curly, chestnut hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, tiny strands dancing against her skin in the wind. Even in the dim light afforded by the overhead bulbs, occasionally interrupted by a wayward and unnaturally large insect, he could see the warmth in her deep, brown eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sure."

She shrugged and brought the glass in her left hand to her lips, knocking back the bourbon in one fluid motion before doing the same to the glass in her right hand. Inhaling loudly, she stacked the two glasses together and placed them on the railing before turning to face him.

"Shame," she said, her voice slightly raspy from the strong liquor. "It's good stuff."

Nick loosened his grip on the handrail and turned to lean against it, his pose mimicking hers. He hadn't released how smooth her features were before, or the pink hue of her full lips. The neck of her jacket was open just enough for him to get a glimpse of her strong collarbones and he momentarily got an image of himself running his hand down the side of her neck. He suddenly found himself wishing women were forbidden to gamble.

"So where are you from?" she asked.

"What makes you think I'm not from here?" he responded.

"Well," she began. "You and I seem to be the only two people on this boat without horrendous accents for one. And two, you don't strike me as the type that sticks around in one place for too long."

Nick laughed in spite of himself. If there was one thing he disliked more about the South than the heat it was the atrocities committed against the English language.

"So where are _you_ from?" he asked.

"Same place as you, I'd wager," she answered with a smirk.

Nick should have guessed that any conversation with this woman would play out exactly like this. Of course, he hadn't planned on chatting with her in the first place. Still, despite what a small portion of his brain said and previous lessons learned he couldn't help himself.

"So what's you name, Honey?" he asked, knowing full well he was deluding himself.

"Bonnie," she answered with a smile.

A wayward piece of her hair, picked up by the wind, briefly stuck to her lower lip before she pulled it away. Nick maneuvered his hand around the collar of his shirt, exposing more of his throat to the sticky night air.

"Well then, Bonnie, you can call me Clyde."

She smiled and took a small step toward him. He could see the lights of the city reflected in the water below them.

"So, Clyde," she said, her voice dropping to a dull whisper. "What were the rest of your plans tonight?"

Now, Nick was not a humble man. There was no room for such a virtue in his chosen profession. He was quick, resourceful, and smart. He also knew full well that he was not a boy in his twenties any longer but that he was still an attractive man and he unquestioningly recognized the look in her eye. Women had always been attracted to him; be it his attitude, looks, or a cocktail of both, Nick had never found it difficult to secure a bed partner. One of them had talked him into marriage once but that had ended when she realized that a gold band around his finger wasn't going to change the man he was and had grown to become rather dependent on.

Still, he'd never met a woman quite this direct - much less taken her home after she'd acquired a fair amount of his money.

"Look Sweetheart," he started. "You're not going to get or find, for that matter, anymore of my money."

His bluntness seemed to amuse her. She laughed and took another small step toward him.

"That's okay," she smiled as her hand reached up to adjust the lapel of his jacket. "I think I have enough for now."

He wasn't going to do this. He was supposed to be pissed at this woman. He was supposed to be figuring out what her trick was. He was supposed to have the upper hand. Instead all he could think about was how that suit must have been made for her and how nice her fingers felt against him.

"Let me make it up to you," she said as her hand moved to play with one of the buttons on his shirt. "Let me buy you breakfast."

Nick laughed and caught her hand, pulling it down between the two of them.

"Look Honey," he breathed as he leaned in closer. "I'm easy, but I'm not that easy."

Lie.

"You sure?" she asked quickly.

He couldn't stop staring at her mouth. The boat had come to a gentle stop and the announcements were being made for everyone to disembark. Thanks for joinin' us and we hope to see ya'll again real soon. Nick weighed his options. Best-case scenario, she was as good in bed as she was confident and beautiful and he'd leave this hillbilly town with a smile on his face tomorrow. Worst-case scenario, she was a lousy lay. Or she manages to steal more of his money. Or she murders him in his sleep.

The thin, vertical stripes on her suit were distracting him. He was a sucker for women in pinstripe.

He lowered his lids as she closed the distance between them and tentatively pressed her lips to his. It was a light, chase kiss but Nick felt it run through him. It was rare that he found a woman this aggressive and though he was still fairly skeptical he found himself to be somewhat refreshed. If she was for real – really for real – she was a no bullshit broad. The world needed more of them.

Nick moved his mouth slowly against hers, feeling her hand come to rest on his chest. She smelled like magnolias.

Pulling away, he whispered against her lips.

"Let's go."

Nick wasn't terribly clear on the mundane series of events that took place as they embarked on the short walk from the docks back to his hotel. Though he told himself over and over to be aware, his mind had started to think of the adventures that awaited them in the comfortable, generous bed in his room. The clicks of their shoes echoed through the lobby and though he wanted to grab her and run up the stairs, Nick calmly called the elevator.

Her arm slid around his waist and under his jacket, making warm circles against his back. Had it not been for the inconsiderate group of assholes watching the news loudly in the adjoining conference room he was pretty certain she would have been able to hear his heartbeat.

He felt like a teenager again.

Finally, there was a ding and a sliding of doors. Tapping the button for the top floor Nick had her pressed against the wall the second the doors closed. She moaned against his mouth as he pressed himself against her, not at all reluctant for her to feel what she was doing to him. Her fingers were lost in his hair - tugging and pulling – as Nick buried himself in her neck. It was every bit as amazing as it had looked on the boat and she pressed herself harder against him as his teeth and tongue danced below her ear.

"Mmm, come on," she gasped.

He hadn't realized the doors had opened. Grabbing her hand, he led her down to his room. Her arms wrapped around him from behind as he opened the door.

Click, woosh, slam.

They both tore their jackets off and tossed them aside, toeing their shoes off, as they moved toward the bed. Nick fell backwards on the overly stuffed comforter, pulling her on top of him. Straddling him, she laughed and tugged at his belt while he worked the buttons of her shirt. Somewhere between her pulling his pants off, him asking if she took birth control, and the both of them playfully (or not) tussling for dominance, he found himself on top of her, inside of her, and holding his breath.

Worth it. Good Goddamn, It was always worth it.

Their hips worked together - in and out, in and out – and she brazenly cried out as the cold metal around his fingers ran up and around her breasts and down her belly, clutching her hips as their movements quickened. With a sudden burst of energy she pushed him onto his back and grabbed both of his wrists, pushing them against the bed. Her mouth found that most perfect spot on his neck, pulling and sucking to the point where Nick knew he'd have something to show for it in the morning.

"Ah!" he hissed. "Easy, vampira!"

She rocked herself harder against him in response, but released his wrists. Again, his hands found her hips and Nick pressed his fingertips hard into her skin as she rode him. Everything was starting to blur. She pulled herself forward and down, closer to his body as Nick shoved his hand between the two of them and gently helped her along. She gasped as he carefully played with that most wondrous part of her and tightened around him as she shuddered and let out a final sigh.

Just as her body started to relax – though still moving enthusiastically on top of him – he fell over as well, his body grinding to a halt as he spilled inside of her. Mumbling a small string of obscenities he wrapped his arms around her as she collapsed on top of him, their chests pounding against each other. After a few moments, she carefully pulled herself away from him and fell against his shoulder beside him. Nick raised his arm and slid it up and around her upper back, still trying to catch his breath, as she moved to rest her head against his chest.

Without another word to each other they fell into the lull of sleep, oblivious to the sirens and panic that were making their way toward Savannah.


	2. Part II

Nick groaned as a beam of daylight penetrated the pale curtains of his hotel room and seeped under his closed lids. As he lazily stretched his arms out, the vague remembrance of warmth at his fingertips caused his eyes to open fully. The sheets were tangled next to him and the faint smell of magnolias brought the previous night's events rushing back.

He inhaled slowly and rose to sit up in the mess of sheets. Gazing around the room he could find no sign of her. Letting the comfort of the bed slip away from him, Nick stood and without thinking opened the closet door, entered the code and checked the safe. There was no sign of her at all. The stillness of the room suddenly made Nick aware of his nakedness and as he walked toward the bathroom he was surprised to find it muggy with steam; she couldn't have left but 10 minutes ago.

Upon flipping the light switch, he noticed the small sheet of white paper taped to the mirror:

Morning, Slick –

I'll be down at Café Soleil until 10:00 if you'll let a lady buy you breakfast.

If not, thanks for the ride.

See you around.

He laughed.

It was signed with a pair of light red lips. She did have amazing lips. Nick remembered how they had felt on his skin, on his neck, on his mouth. The rest of her hadn't been bad either. Though Nick hadn't gotten the most vivid picture of her in the dark of the hotel room, his hands had told him everything he needed to know. She was soft, curvy, and had strong legs. He fancied momentarily that he could still feel those legs on either side of him, gripping tight before their night together had come to a most satisfying end.

He was more than a little surprised but part of him found himself wishing she was still there – wishing he could have joined her in the shower. Nick definitely could have handled feeling those legs wrap around him one more time. Maybe he could talk her into joining him back here after breakfast or, hell, in the bathroom of the –

"Urgh, I need a shower."

Turning on the water and stepping under the warm spray Nick tried to think of something else but found his mind continuing to come back to her.

Okay. Stop. Think for a second.

Why?

She was beautiful. Yes.

She was fantastic in bed. Yes.

She was good at cards. Unfortunately, yes.

She was calm, casual, collected. Yes, yes, yes.

Somewhere between rinsing the generic shampoo out of his hair and reaching down the shut the water off, Nick had decided he would join her for breakfast. Just that though. Just that. This woman had great potential to be dangerous for him but she was too rare to just blow off. Who knows? Maybe they could meet up again sometime –

Shut the _fuck_ up.

Laughing, Nick stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Opening his closet once again he rather quickly decided on his white Armani suit and blue shirt; it was too damned hot for dark colors. Checking his reflection in the mirror, Nick slid his wallet into his back pocket and headed out of the hotel, toward the small café around the corner.

The morning air felt soothing to him – the calm before the inevitable heat wave that would hit around 11 am – and Nick undid one more button on his shirt. She came into his view just as he turned the corner. Sitting at a patio table in the deceptively cool air, she was glancing over a newspaper and sipping a mug of milky foam. Without slowing, Nick pulled out the chair opposite of her and took a seat. She smiled warmly at him and lowered her newspaper.

"Well, hello there."

She looked positively radiant. At least, he would have thought she looked positively radiant if that was something Nick would allow himself to think. She was dressed, of course, in the pinstripes that had gotten him in trouble last night and she was just as lovely has he remembered. Her chestnut hair was loose around her face now, the sun bringing out its red tints.

"Hey yourself."

She wiped at the milk residue on her upper lip with her napkin.

"Wasn't sure you'd show up."

"Yeah," Nick began. "I wasn't sure if I would either."

"Well, I'm glad you did," she said. "I wouldn't be an honest woman if you hadn't, now would I? Luring you to bed under false pretenses."

"No," he grinned. "I suppose not."

God, he hated this. _This_ was why he shouldn't have come; he loathed awkward small talk. Despite that however, he couldn't help but notice that he felt no true desire to leave. Not just yet.

"And what will the gentleman be having for breakfast this morning?" she asked, sliding a small menu toward him.

"Well, that depends Honey," Nick began. "What are the odds I can score something not slathered in pig fat?"

She took another slip of her latte and grinned.

"The oatmeal and fruit are probably a safe bet," she said. "I'm not too sure about anything else."

"What's this?" he asked, pretending to be offended. "I thought you were buying me breakfast? Not taking me out to graze."

She laughed again. She had a clear, genuine laugh.

"Then by all means sir, you order yourself eggs Florentine and a bloody Mary. I can't have you thinking poorly of me."

"Oh," he said softly, his eyes sharpening. "After last night, there's not much chance of that happening."

She laughed again and looked down at the tabletop. Nick could have sworn she blushed.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I was hoping it was okay; I'd never done that before."

For about two full seconds, Nick fell for it hook, line, and sinker which she picked up on instantly. Before he could defend himself she was grinning from ear to ear.

"You are delightfully easy," she said.

Nick leaned back slightly in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

"What can I say," he began. "You found my weakness."

Christ, he wanted to kiss her. She was staring at him with the most mischievous of looks. He knew he could have her again if he wanted and somewhere in the pit of his stomach that awareness was fluttering around.

"One of them anyway," she said as she rubbed one of her legs gently against his under the table.

Where the hell was the waiter?

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"Well, Slick," she said. "I've been debating if I should tell you this or not. My instinct says 'no' but you seem like a nice guy and certainly . . . capable. I'm just not sure how you're going to take this."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Don't leave me hangin', Doll. What is it?"

She folded her fingers together in front of her and leaned in.

"You have a tell."

He smiled, searching her face for the playful smile and upon not finding it, felt his blood stop flowing.

"Shut the fuck up," he said, more loudly than he meant to. "I do not have a fucking tell."

She leaned back, raising her hands up innocently.

"I didn't think you'd like hearing it," she said. "but it's true, darling."

"Oh," Nick scoffed. "And out of the hundreds of people I've played – and won against, mind you – you're the only one who has even been able to figure me out?"

"Could be," she said. "Maybe I got lucky or maybe it was just a fluke. But I'm pretty sure you know that's not true, even if you don't want to admit it."

Nick couldn't think straight. There was no fucking way he had a fucking tell. He'd been doing this far too long – been working way too hard – to have some sort of fucking tic give him away. No, no fucking way.

"Hey," she said, her voice bringing him back. "I know you won't believe me when I say this but I didn't tell you to upset you. Honestly, it's hardly noticeable."

He looked into her eyes.

"You're fuckin' serious?" he asked. "You noticed it."

"Look Slick, it's really not as catastrophic as you may think," she explained. "I only noticed it because I'm good. I'm really good."

Christ, she was serious. Nick couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Don't bullshit me, Honey," he said. "What it is? What's my big secret?"

There was that smile again. She scooted her chair over to him so that they sat side by side. He turned his head to meet her and stared at her intently as she carefully reached up and touched the side of his face.

"Why don't we get you something to eat," her lips found his ear. "and I'll tell you in _my_ hotel room."

Giant brass balls. My God, this woman had nerve. And tact. And an amazing mouth.

"You don't stop do you," Nick said, pulling away to look into her brown eyes.

"Not when I see something good," she responded, her mouth inches from his. "Look, I'm not trying to fuck with you . . . well, not like _that_. If you want, I'll tell you right now. But I want to tell you in my room."

One of her hands was sliding up his knee.

"And I know you want me to tell you there too."

Fuck it.

Nick closed the meager distance between them and caught her top lip between both of his. She sighed against him and softly ran her free hand through his hair, keeping the other firmly on his knee. She pulled away, her lips against his neck.

"Hmm, forget it," Nick said. "You can buy me lunch."

She chuckled and pulled away, moving to stand. Nick didn't know what the hell he was doing. This was going against virtually every one of his rules. But what could he do? She was an excellent negotiator.

"So where do - "

He was cut off when she suddenly screamed loudly. Nick cringed and looked down the street for the source of the sudden burst. It sounded like the world had ended.

"Jesus," she gasped. "What the fuck was that?"

Squinting, Nick shielded his eyes with his hand and kept looking. He could just make out what looked like people running down the middle of the street.

"I don't know," he told her. "I have no idea."

Everyone around them had risen and were staring at the mass of people coming toward them. There was something else too, an echo - a shrill veil of sound that seemed to be traveling with the fleeing people. It reminded Nick of the pet cat he accidently stepped on as a child.

"We need to go," she said, tugging at his arm.

As they got closer, Nick could see that they were disheveled and blemished; their faces contorted into something he'd never seen.

"Please," she pleaded. "We need to go!"

Turning toward her, Nick slid his arm around her back and maneuvered her to face the opposite direction.

They ran.


End file.
